The Love Cure Read online

  Cara Lockwood is the USA TODAY bestselling author of more than twenty-eight books, including I Do (But I Don’t), which was made into a Lifetime Original movie. She’s written the Bard Academy series for young adults and has had her work translated into several languages around the world. Born and raised in Dallas, Cara now lives near Chicago with her husband and their blended family. Find out more about her at caralockwood.com, friend her on Facebook, Facebook.com/authorcaralockwood, or follow her on Twitter, @caralockwood, or Instagram, Instagram.com/cara_lockwood.

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  The Last Affair by A.C. Arthur

  The Player by Stefanie London

  Our Little Secret by Rachael Stewart

  Also by Cara Lockwood

  Masquerade

  Cuffs

  The Sex Cure

  Double Dare You

  Hot Mistake

  First Class Sin

  Look at Me

  No Strings

  Discover more at Harlequin.com

  THE LOVE CURE

  CARA LOCKWOOD

  This book, my last DARE, is dedicated to all the DARE fans. Thank you so much!

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from The Player by Stefanie London

  CHAPTER ONE

  LIAM LANGE JUST wanted this damn day to be over already and it was barely five. He rolled up the sleeves of his canvas work shirt as he slid onto the peeling leather barstool in the dark dive bar in Hoboken. The blinds were down so he didn’t have to stare at the silver cityscape of Manhattan, his least favorite place on earth.

  He ordered a cold Pabst Blue Ribbon to try to cool his temper, still simmering from the run-in he’d had with the foreman on the condo build he’d worked on down the street. The foreman—all mouth and no brains in Liam’s opinion—micromanaged his work on the roof all day—from the ground. As if he could tell anything from down there. It had taken all of Liam’s patience to finish the job, which thank God was now done.

  Liam’s lower back ached, since he’d been working double time to get out of there, and he could feel the singe of a sunburn on his neck. The mid-May sun had been unforgiving all day, but it was nothing that a cold beer or two wouldn’t fix. The bartender opened a longneck and slid it to him, and he took it with a small nod of his head and drank deep.

  No. His real problem had nothing to do with the sun or that moronic foreman. Or his aching muscles. It had everything to do with that damn message on his phone.

  Hey, brother. Happy Birthday. WL.

  WL for Wilder Lange. As if he wouldn’t know that this unlisted, blocked number would be his asshole half brother’s. It doubly irked because his full brothers, Seth and Stuart, hadn’t yet acknowledged his birthday. They were still pissed off about him taking Mom’s side against them in the last run-in with Wilder, clearly. Well, they could be pissed all they wanted. They were the ones who’d picked the wrong side.

  He took one more look at the text, his finger hovering over the reply button. What could he even say?

  How’s the money grab going? Stolen all of our father’s money yet? Want to bleed me dry, too? Ha, sucker. There’s nothing you can take from me.

  That’s where Liam had already won. He’d walked away from the Lange Communications fortune long ago. Nothing but vipers and vampires hanging around hoping to get a drop of their dead father’s power and money. All Liam had to his name was a few thousand dollars, and whatever this last job would pay—if the foreman didn’t dock him like he’d threatened. What he needed to do was save all his money and head south. Florida, maybe? Somewhere away from Manhattan and New Jersey, which on days like today just seemed populated with the world’s worst assholes.

  Liam was halfway through his PBR when the door to the dive bar slid open, letting too much of the late afternoon sunlight in. He squinted, annoyed at the flash of light in the otherwise shuttered and darkened bar, light that seemed not to be waning. Some idiot was holding the door open. He could feel the blast of hot air from outside on his back. Liam turned, half expecting to see that asshole foreman, as he’d be the kind of guy who’d swing open a door wide to a darkened bar.

  Instead, he saw the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his whole life, ringed in a halo of light. She was delicate and blonde, her hair gleaming like spun gold. She wore an airy white sundress, which, backlit with the sun, showed her amazing thighs in nearly perfect detail. She kept her elegant hand, nails painted a shell pink that matched her soft bow lips, on the door as if wondering whether or not to come in. This kind of bar was not the place for a woman as gorgeous as that. Her white linen dress wouldn’t stay white long against these faded and peeling barstools. Her delicate strappy-heeled sandals would no doubt find it hard going on the pitied concrete floor. It’s no wonder she looked so uncertain, so confused, as she let in the summer heat.

  “Hey, in or out! You’re gonna melt us over here,” one of the less than savory characters on the other side of the bar yelled, his Jersey accent as thick as his belly. He was almost entirely bald except for a wisp of dark hair he’d tried unsuccessfully to sweep over the center of his head. Liam scowled at the man. He wasn’t wrong, but still, that was no way to talk to a woman. Liam glanced over at her, sure she’d exit the place, realizing her mistake, but instead, she stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind her.

  Interesting. So she was going to double down on her mistake. She either had guts or lacked the sense to turn around and leave.

  “Hey, sweetheart. Come sit by me!” the man called out, clearly turning in time to realize he was yelling at a gorgeous model. Liam scowled again. Okay, so he was going to be a problem. And the bartender wasn’t doing anything about it. He had his head buried in the ice at the end of the bar, ignoring the ruckus. Liam stretched his neck, its joints popping. He wouldn’t mind getting into it with some jerk. Might help him work out the day’s stress.

  “Leave her alone. She can sit where she wants,” Liam said, voice low but steady. “Let her decide.” The man saw Liam for the first time and seemed prepared to pop off. But then Liam stood, to his full height of six-three. He was also a wall of muscle, a benefit of working with his hands all day. The man suddenly found something interesting to look at on his phone.

  Uh-huh. Thought so.

  The woman’s gaze darted from Liam to the man and back again. Maybe this was the time she’d choose to bolt. Instead, she moved closer to Liam, and laid her hand hesitantly on the ripped stool next to his.

  “Mind if I...?” she asked, her voice sweet like honey. Her clear blue eyes held his a minute. Damn, they were pretty. Fringed with thick dark lashes. Liam wasn’t exactly in the mood for company, but there was no way he could say no to that voice, to those small, pink, rosebud lips. Whatever the lady wanted, she’d get.

  He nodded at the seat, and she perched on it, the hem of her sundress inching above her knee. He tried not to stare at her legs, which she crossed at the knee. The hem rode up a little farther, giving him just a glimpse of pale thigh. She set her small straw clutch purse on the bar.

  “I’m Cecily,” she said, holding
out a dainty hand with those perfectly pink nails. He dragged his focus away from her legs with difficulty.

  “Liam,” he replied, taking her hand, which seemed childlike in his. He worried she’d shrink from his calloused paw, but she shook it gamely.

  “Nice to meet you.” She flashed him a dazzling white smile that nearly blinded him. God, the woman was even prettier close-up. Barely wore a stitch of makeup, and had a few freckles across her nose, but otherwise, her skin was flawless. Her clear blue eyes, like a gorgeous calm day on the Atlantic, stared at him, and seemed...friendly. It had been a while since a woman this pretty had been this interested in him. Not that it didn’t happen, but normally, he attracted the punk chicks with the smoky eye shadow and heavy liner, with extra piercings and tattoos, the ones who didn’t mind his calloused hands. Beautiful blondes who looked like they ought to be shopping on Fifth Avenue with limitless platinum cards typically didn’t go for him.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” she asked, nodding to his now, near-empty longneck. He almost choked on the last sip.

  “You want to buy me a drink?” He had to laugh. Who was this woman? First, she strides into a dive bar where she clearly doesn’t belong, and then she offers him a drink? Every man in here would buy her two or three or ten.

  “Is there something wrong with that?” A playful—even flirty?—smile crossed her lips.

  Clearly, Cecily was a woman who flaunted convention. Well, that worked just fine by him. He didn’t care much for convention, anyway.

  “Nothing at all wrong with that,” he said.

  “Good,” she added, and signaled the bartender, ordering him another PBR, and her one, too. When the bartender put the bottles before them, she clinked her neck against his. “Hell with this day. Here’s hoping it turns around.” She took a big swig from the bottle and he wondered what could ever go wrong for a beautiful woman like this. He always imagined gorgeous women got pretty much whatever they wanted.

  “You had a bad day, too?” he asked her, a bit of amusement in his voice.

  “Sure did. I mean, did anyone in here have a good day?” She indicated the few grumpy patrons around the bar. Liam had to laugh at that.

  “I bet not,” he agreed. People didn’t come to this dive to celebrate.

  “So, how about you? Your day...was it bad...or the worst?” She seemed actually interested.

  “The worst,” he admitted.

  “Well, then, we’d better add Jameson shots to these, or we’re never going to get anywhere.” She signaled the bartender as Liam laughed then, despite himself. He liked this woman. She leaned over the bar to talk to the bartender and Liam noticed a flash of smooth skin at her neckline, the hint of cleavage visible. One of the straps of the dress fell down her left shoulder and she absently tugged it up again. He studied her shoulder, wondering if her skin was as soft as it looked. He felt want in him stir. Down, boy, he told himself. Not the right time.

  The bartender set the Jameson shots in front of them, and the woman handed over her credit card for an open tab. Liam shook his head. He’d have to argue with the bartender later about who was paying for these drinks. He couldn’t very well let this beautiful woman carry him tonight.

  “What should we drink to?” she asked him, blinking fast.

  “Well, it is my birthday.”

  Her pink lips parted. “Your birthday? Seriously?” She looked joyful, as if he’d just given her the best news. It had been a long time since anybody had cared about the day he was born, and probably longer since they’d been happy about it. He had a flash of his older brother Wilder scowling at him, the day the two nearly tore each other’s heads off, the last day he’d ever stepped foot in the Lange family mansion. “Well, then, to you, Liam. On your birthday. Sorry it’s been the worst.”

  She gently clinked her shot glass against his, and their fingers touched as she did so. Was it just his imagination or did a current run straight up his arm and right to his groin? She put the shot glass to her delicate lips and drained it, then thumped it on the bar with a clunk. Damn, the woman was sexy. Liam followed suit, the Jameson sliding down his throat with only the slightest twinge of a burn. His eyes never left her. Part of him thought she was just a mirage and she’d disappear if he didn’t keep an eye on her. He still couldn’t believe she was sitting next to him, her exposed knee inches from his own. He probably should try to talk to the woman, but he kept thinking if he opened his mouth, she’d fly away, like a beautiful songbird.

  “So, tell me, Liam,” she said, leaning forward. “Why’s your day been so bad?”

  Terrible boss. Worse brother. A family feud that he’d long since grown tired of managing. And the fact that this day marked two occasions: his birth and his father’s untimely death. Where to start? “Birthdays aren’t really great for me,” he admitted.

  “Why not?” Her blue eyes studied him with real concern. She seemed to actually care.

  “My dad died. On this day, years ago.” Liam glanced down at the bar. “So, every day, I’m reminded that I was born, but he’s not here.”

  Cecily’s face crumpled a bit. “Oh.” She bit her lip. “I’m so very sorry.”

  Liam had been barely a teenager when his father passed, when he’d gone from being incredibly wealthy to having next to nothing nearly overnight. His oldest brother, Wilder, took over the company, mostly cut out his mother and his brothers. He’d listened to his mother complain bitterly about this for years, and he knew it wasn’t fair.

  “I’m not talking to most of my family.” Liam shrugged. “After my dad died, well, my half brother kind of became a prick. And...” Liam couldn’t believe he was even getting into this. And with a perfect stranger. He never talked about Wilder. Never talked about the Lange dynasty. The millions, no billions, stolen from its rightful heirs. “Well, we disagreed on what should happen with Dad’s...uh...belongings. Wilder thought he should get most of it. I thought Dad would want it split between all four of his sons and his wife.”

  Liam remembered trying to argue with his grown brother. He’d been just a kid, really. He never would get any traction. Then, his older full brother, Seth, and Liam’s twin brother, Stuart, they’d all just bought into Wilder’s lies. Took his side. Against him. Just because they were happy to take Wilder’s meager payouts. Liam felt the rest of the family deserved more. Much more. There wasn’t much point in staying in the family after that. As soon as Liam hit eighteen, he was gone. All he’d taken with him was a voting seat on the board of Lange Communications. Wilder had offered him millions for it. Liam had taken great joy in telling him to go to hell.

  “Your brother took it all?” Cecily looked aghast.

  “He took all that mattered.” Liam stared at the label of his beer bottle. “He took the valuable stuff.” As in, taking over Lange Communications, the cash cow and divvying up the tiniest of cash and stock payouts for the rest of them, which wasn’t nearly enough for his mother to live on or to pay for Liam’s private school tuition. His father never would’ve let that happen. But Wilder was a different story.

  Wilder said Dad wanted him to take over the business, but Dad never mentioned that to Liam. Or anybody else. So, as far as Liam was concerned, Wilder could’ve simply made it all up. Liam was the one who’d convinced the board he was the natural choice to lead the company. And knowing his eldest brother, the control freak, the bossiest brother of all time, it was simply a straight-up power grab.

  Cecily put her hand on Liam’s. The soft touch startled him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, eyes full of empathy. “That had to be terrible, fighting with your brother, especially after you just lost your dad.”

  “Half brother,” he corrected. But Liam couldn’t stop staring at the woman’s delicate hand on his. There seemed to be more than comfort there. Something more like...an invitation. But was he imagining it?

  “But grief does terrible things to peo
ple. Maybe he didn’t mean to do the things he did.”

  Liam studied Cecily. She was a woman, he decided, who just tried to see the best in people. And maybe that was because people always put their best faces on around her.

  “You’re being kind to him, but he doesn’t deserve it.” Liam waved a dismissive hand. Some people were just rotten. There was no helping them.

  “Well, we can all use a little kindness, right?” She beamed at him, undeterred. “So, what can we do to cheer you up today? Nobody should be sad on their birthday.” She flashed another brilliant smile at him. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was have her naked in his bed. That would set things right. Maybe for all time.

  He took a swig of beer to distract himself from those thoughts. She was too good for him. Too pretty. Too sweet. He hadn’t even showered from his day of sweaty outdoor work, and he was thinking of taking this lovely princess to his bed? His cramped Hoboken apartment with a stunning view of the brick building next door would not impress.

  “It’s okay. Besides. I’m not the only person who’s had a bad day. Didn’t you say you were having a rough one? How come?”

  Unease flickered across her face. “Yeah. I had a pretty rough day.” She bit her pink lip, as if trying to decide how much to share. He almost worried she’d blurt out something about a powerful rich husband. But, glancing at her left hand, he saw no ring. Nor, even, a white imprint of one she used to wear. “I got some bad news.”

  “What kind?”

  She studied him for a second, her resolve wavering. “I...uh. Lost my job. And my health insurance.”

  “Seriously?” What crazy person would fire this gorgeous, sweet woman? A fool. That’s who. “Who would fire you? You’re...you’re...so...” Perfect. “Nice.”

  “Aw, thanks, Liam.” An appreciative smile tugged at her mouth. “It was just layoffs. Nothing personal. It’s just about the corporation’s bottom line. I worked in HR for Yancy’s. The big department store chain?” Liam nodded. He knew it. Everybody knew it. They had a store at every mall, and in every downtown in America. But retail had taken a hit lately, especially with the economic downturn.